


Marvel Age of Old

by EatTheRich



Series: Marvel Age of Old [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - House of M, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Medieval AU, Other, ish, marvel AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:41:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4547079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatTheRich/pseuds/EatTheRich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Think Game of Thrones and House of M all smashed together with some creative differences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wanda

**Author's Note:**

> High Evolutionaries (or evolutionaries) would be the equivalent to Grand Maesters and maesters in A Song of Ice and Fire.

She saw it once in a dream. And then every night thereafter, it became a nightmare. She would wake up in a cold sweat, feverish and dazed. She knew the true nature of these dreams, though the evolutionaries of Mount Wundagore would hear naught of it. Wanda had believed that the High Evolutionary, with whom she treated every morn and evening, would lend her his ear, but Lord Herbert Wyndham had been even more eager to put down her talk than the others had been. At first, she was sullen. If they will not listen, I will not waste my words. She withdrew from daily life on the mountain. But that did not stop the nightmares. 

The flaming raptor. A horned demoness. Four faceless horsemen. These were the figures that haunted her hours of slumber. These were the figures that would bring about the destruction of the realm. These are not the dreams of some frightened girl, she thought to herself. I am Wanda of House Magnus, daughter of King Erik I Magnus, Lord Over All the Monarchy. If they will not listen … I will make them listen. 

That evening, she descended from her chambers dressed in scarlet silks. A thin scarlet wimple graced her head, and from it, long ringlets of dark brown hair cascaded. She entered the Great Hall with a fierce confidence that she had not known for some years. Wisps of scarlet silk flowed and shone bright as she strode down the length of the hall. Seated at the High Table was Mount Wundagore's High Evolutionary Wyndham and several other High Evolutionaries with whom Wanda was not well acquainted. They were not from the mountain. They were from other lands. 

“Wanda,” Wyndham glanced toward the princess of House Magnus. “I am glad to see you have abandoned your folly. Come join us and eat.” He lifted a goblet in the air to salute her. She nodded approval and took a seat. The High Table of Mount Wundagore was circular, rather than rectangular. It was argued that among evolutionaries there was no greater or lesser. These were men and women who pursued great knowledge, they were no lords and ladies. 

“Thank you, Wyndham,” Wanda replied with a bit of warmth that she did not truly feel. The man's purple robes flapped as he nodded at her. She accepted a cup of spiced wine, and drunk deeply before asking, “Folly, you say? Is it folly to be a believer? Is it folly to be a woman of caution?” 

The man frowned. “Wanda, dear, I was just relaying your tales to High Evolutionary McCoy. He serves House Xavier in Westchester. He has come in person to inform us that there is to be a feast. Lady Grey of House Xavier has been promised to Lord Summers of House Essex. This is good news.”

“I am aware. And I am happy for them.” Wanda cut the man off, turning to McCoy. The man was a true beast. Thick hair grew from every inch of his body, or so it seemed. He was fiercely intelligent, at least that much he could boast. “And what do you think of my dreams, Henry?”

“My lady,” he began, “dreams are nothing more than an expression of the subconscious. I understand you've dabbled in the … arcane arts of old, shall we say? Mayhaps that has led you to look too deeply into such things.”

“Lady Harkness would beg to differ,” Wanda replied, coolly. 

“Von Doom might have something to say, as well,” said Wyndham. “He continues to serve as your lord father's High Evolutionary for a reason. You have recently suffered yet another mental collapse. Your mind is not in the right place. For that very reason, you are here, in my care, and not on Genosha beside the royal family.”

“I know exactly why I am here, Wyndham,” Wanda said. My sons were taken from me years ago and no one has trusted me since, you stupid fool. “My father loves me.”

“He loves you well, my dear,” Wyndham said in assent.

“My lady.” 

“Excuse me. My lady.” Wyndham downed the contents of his goblet. “Now, back to our important business –“

Wanda was not prepared to let him off that easily. “I would hope that the High Evolutionary of Mount Wundagore, the very home and training place of the evolutionaries, would know better than to condescend to royalty.”

“My lady?” The man asked, eyes narrowed. 

“I am of House Magnus. I am your superior in almost every conceivable way, and if you will not listen of your own free will, I will command you to do so. The horrors I have witnessed during my hours of slumber are not easily forgotten. They are far too vivid to be dreams, yet too vague to be acute predictions of what may come. They are warnings, nothing more.” Now she had their attention. She had finally found her voice again. Years of this idle life on Wundagore had stolen it from her, but she would not be denied on this night.  
“I believe the flaming raptor to be representative of the Phoenix Cult, what else? The other symbols, I know not. I command that you send out ravens. I want agents of the Shield to remove the leaders of the Phoenix Cult from their halls. I want them imprisoned, questioned, and –“

“Executed?” McCoy offered. 

“If need be,” Wanda replied. All eyes were on her, yet she did not shrink beneath them as she might have done before. 

“What you speak is blasphemous, and foolish besides. The Phoenix is worshiped everywhere in the Monarchy. If your father removed the priests and priestesses, riots would erupt everywhere.” Wyndham was as disapproving as ever.

“Lady Grey is a priestess of the Phoenix Cult, as well,” McCoy chimed in. “To think you bear her any ill will is disturbing to say the least.”

“Indeed. I fear this has more to do with your bastards than your dreams.” Wyndham pressed on. “A woman bereft of her sons will go to any length to receive them back into her arms.”

“Don't you dare mention my children.” Wanda glared at the man. 

“William and Thomas, I believe. Born unto you by a sellsword. One Sir Jonas, a member of Lord Anthony Stark's Iron Men?” There was wickedness in Wyndham's smile. Wanda slammed her fist down on the table. 

She spoke through gritted teeth. “Herbert Wyndham … I will kill you.” The man only grinned more broadly.  
“The woman has threatened me yet again. Clearly, her mental state is slipping once more. Guards – have this woman taken to the Chamber of Solitude. Give her something to calm her nerves.” Wyndham rose from the table at the same time as Wanda. She stormed over to him, and took a swing at his countenance. He caught her wrist, and pulled her in close. His lips were almost touching her ear as he whispered into it. “You are but a failed experiment, Wanda Magnus, and you are never going to see the outside of these walls again. That I promise you.”


	2. Erik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King's Council meets.

Genosha

“All rise for the King Over All the Monarchy, Erik Magnus, First of His Name, Lord of Genosha, and descendant of the First Mutants.” The bald Hand of the King turned to face Erik, having just announced him. Charles Xavier was a man of great repute. A wise man, no doubt, but an old man, as well. He was of an age with Erik, or near enough as made no matter. The king's councilors rose from their seats, and waited for Erik's approving glance. The king was quick to give it, eager to begin the day's session.

Though Lord Magnus was as old as his Hand, he bore his age with a certain boldness that Xavier lacked. Charles had entered his sixtieth year with a quiet grace, whereas Erik had done so with a great strength. His snow white hair touched his shoulders, and a purple cloak flowed behind him as he strode into the throne room. Beneath his arm was his great helm forged from steel the color magenta. As the king took his seat, so did his councilors. He placed the helm on one arm of his throne, and faced his council.

“What news have you for me today?” the king began. “I would hear first from our Lady Commander of the Genoshan Shield.” A young woman straightened in her seat. She had brown hair, close cropped. The look would have been most unusual for a woman of noble birth, but for a woman of the Shield, it made no matter. In fact, it gave her a bit of an edgy appearance, which no doubt would have been useful in her line of work.

“Your Grace,” Maria Hill began, “the Genoshan people are in no more peril than they were when last we held council. I have no new threats to report, only old ones.”

“Threats you have eliminated, I should hope,” the king put back to her.

“All but for the Punishers,” replied Hill. “They continue to elude the agents of the Shield.”

“I have said so before, and I shall say so again,” began Lord Samuel Wilson, also of the Shield, “the Punishers must be dealt with in the same manner that they treat their victims. That is the only thing they understand – mindless violence.”

“My Lord Whisperer, the Falcon, has the right of it,” chimed in Xavier. “I would not be the first to say so, but they have been plaguing us for some time. We cannot have lords and ladies being dragged for their homes and left dead in the streets. What does that say about our leadership?”

“I believe their leader is a man called Castle,” Wilson, the Falcon, put to them. “A bastard's surname.”

“How apt. A bastard-led movement. Nothing but villainy can come from a base born creature,” spat High Evolutionary Von Doom.

A robust man seated across from Von Doom sounded his disapproval. “Your own son is base born, as is the king's second daughter.”

“Both were legitimized by royal decree, Shaw,” Von Doom spat back from beneath his hooded cloak of deep green.

“This talk of bastards does naught to rein in these Punishers, my councilors,” the king silenced them all. At that, a slender, but well-built woman garbed completely in white silks, smiled as sly a smile as Erik had ever seen. This one is dangerous. A smile comes to her countenance only at her command. It serves her as a weapon, as does everything else. She is one to watch.

“Your Grace,” the platinum haired Mistress of Coin and Strategies spoke up from beside Shaw, “I do believe these Punishers made be put to good use.”

“And how is that, Lady Frost?” Erik inquired.

“These men believe they are servants of the innocent. They believe that by brutalizing those they deem corrupt and evil, they are protecting the innocents of this great city,” the woman replied. They say she can see deep into a man's mind with but a glance, the king thought to himself. Let us see how well she has read these vile men.

“My Lady has the truth of it,” the Falcon stated. “My little birds whisper many a secret into my ear.”

Your damned birds are everywhere, yet no one seems to know where to find the Punishers. The king was never too fond of Samuel Wilson.

“Just so,” continued Lady Frost. “Give me but a fortnight, and I shall not only find these Punishers, but I shall also put them to good use.” The woman sat back, one leg crossed over the other, and took a sip from her goblet, clearly pleased with herself. Maria Hill was not so pleased.

“And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that, Emma?” the woman asked irately.   
“A lady always keeps her secrets,” Emma replied with a smirk. This woman is an enigma. Useful … but all the more dangerous for it.

“Very well,” decreed Charles. “With Your Grace's leave, Lady Frost shall deal with the Punishers.” The king nodded his consent. “And what is next, my lords and ladies?”

This time, it was Shaw who spoke up. He smoothed his hands over his doublet, and spoke with an easy confidence. “My lords and ladies, Your Grace … there is a most serious matter that needs be discussed.” He paused for effect. As he looked about the chamber, his black hair fastened behind his head began to sway. “The lands to the east have never before presented a threat to the Monarchy because they have always been at war. I am afraid that is no longer the case. Chandilar, Skrullos, and Hala have all made peace.” When he paused this time, the silence spoke volumes. There were concerned looks on most every face, save for that of Erik, Charles and Emma who undoubtedly already knew, and the Falcon who had been the one to pass this information along in the first place. “The Majestrix of Chandilar, the Queen of Skrullos, and the Supreme Intelligence of Hala have all gathered together and forged a peace that seems quite sound.”

“That is … unsettling,” the king admitted. “Any one of them turning on us would be cause for great concern, but all three together … that would mean much bloodshed, and doom.”

“You know naught of the doom that we might bring about ourselves, Your Grace.” It was Von Doom who had spoken. “Shaw is our weapons master, the Lady Selene our mistress of war. I have no doubt that the Lords and Ladies of Hellfire Keep will find a suitable way to ensure our safety.”

“We already have.” It was Selene Gallio who had spoken, Black Queen of Hellfire Keep, and the Lady of Nova Roma. She pushed aside a lock of hair black as jet from her face, and spoke again. “Shaw has devised a masterful new plan to ensure the safety of all you nobles.” Whenever the Nova Roman spoke, others listened. Some respected her, but many more feared her. Fear can be useful.

“Aye,” said Shaw, “The Sentinels. Armored men sworn to House Magnus, to the council, and the king.”

“And Hellfire Keep, no doubt,” added the Lady Commander.

“Only to those of us who sit on this council. The idea is not to stand by the king and ward away any who might wish him ill,” Shaw explained, “but rather to prevent such things from happening.”

“Explain,” demanded the king, though he knew full well what Shaw intended.   
“The Sentinels will be dispersed among the realm. They will work openly and in secret, just as the Masters of Disguise from Skrullos. They will seek out those the king deems potentially threatening … and they will kill them before the fools even realize they are threats to the realm.” Shaw smiled with satisfaction.

“A preemptive course of action … or a cowardly one?” asked Xavier.

“You needn't trouble us with your conscience, Lord Hand,” Emma said, her face a mask.

Erik raised a hand. “Enough. Shaw, do what you will. Von Doom, with me to the Sorcery Conservatory. We must treat with Strange. He must have a good reason for not attending this session. Emma, you will deal with the Punishers. As for the union of our eastern enemies, we will require more information. Whisperer, I will leave you to it. This meeting is at an end.” The King's Councilors took their leave, save for the Lord Hand, bowing courteously on their way out. “Charles, my friend, a word.” The Hand of the King grinned before stepping closer to his king.

“Yes, Your Grace?” he inquired. The king scoffed.

“Enough of that. I am Erik to you, Charles,” he declared.

“Of course, Your Gra – I mean, Erik,” the Hand replied. “What would you have of me?”

“Nothing. Rather, I would prefer to give something to you. My congratulations.” The king smiled at his old friend. “I hear the Lady Grey is to be wed to the gallant Lord Summers.”

“You have the truth of it, Erik,” the Hand replied. “They spent much time together when they were younger and Summers was my ward in Westchester, along with the Lady Grey.”

“I look forward to attending,” Erik stated. “Lady Grey continues to pray for me, I hope.”

“But of course,” assured Charles. “She is as devout a priestess as any other. She asks the Phoenix to grant you long life and prosperity, Erik.”

“We can only hope it hears her prayers,” the king responded, his tone more grim than before. Charles picked up on the change.

“Is something wrong, Erik?” he asked the king. His voice was soothing to Erik. He always had a way of making him feel stronger, more confident, and reassured.

“The Empires of the East have found common cause, which will undoubtedly prove to be our downfall. My agents in Madripoor have turned against me,” the king confessed.

“The east need not concern you, Erik, and as for Raven … I was shocked to hear what she'd done,” Charles said. “Subterfuge is one thing. It is what you trained her for. But this was wholesale slaughter disguised as loyalty.”

“She sent me the heads of the crime bosses of Madripoor. Men and women who led the Hand and Hydra. Powerful people,” Erik explained. “She has installed herself as the new Crime Lady of Madripoor, and no longer responds to my ravens.” A Raven who responds naught to my ravens.

“Erik, surely there is some explanation. She is a loyal woman,” Charles attempted to soothe the king.

“Loyal to a point, and ambitious.” Erik clearly had lost hope in his agent. “And a potential problem for us. Aside from her, neither New or Old Atlantis respond to my summons.”

“King Namor and Queen Susan rule their respective domains from without the Monarchy. If it is their choice to not respond, what can we do?” Charles asked. He knew what it meant. Erik could see it in his eyes. Ill omens.

“Atlantis, both Old and New, has always been an ally to the Monarchy, no matter who has reigned. That they do not respond bodes ill. Darkness gathers in Egyptia, Charles. Clan Akkaba has ruled for as long as anyone can remember, always grooming a new Lord Apocalypse. Their latest has remained a mystery until recently,” the king explained. “A man by the name of En Sabah Nur.”

Charles frowned. “This is not necessarily troubling news, my king. Such is the tradition of Clan Akkaba.”

“The clan preaches against the crown, Charles,” Erik interjected. “They do not support us. If the Empires decide to attack, who is to stop Egyptia from joining them? And if Atlantis senses weakness, they shan't come to our aid. Who will help us then?”

Charles actually looked troubled. Finally. “It will not come to that, my king. The realm is strong.”

“Aye?” Erik thought differently. “Genosha remains strong, even with these Punishers. The same cannot be said for Muir.”

“Muir is one of the most powerful isles of the Monarchy, my king,” Charles was quick to point out.

“There is truth in what you say, Charles,” the king agreed, “but there are stirrings.”

“Stirrings, Erik?” Charles had to ask. What sort of ill-informed Hand are you? Or do you merely choose to act ignorant as some ploy?

“The Muirish folk do not worship the Phoenix as we do. They worship the Morrigan, a deity of many aspects and faces. Lord Cassidy's daughter is one such devotee and the High Priestess of the Morrigan,” Erik told his Hand. “This has never been a problem, until now. The worshipers of the Morrigan have been getting very aggressive of late. A family of Phoenix worshipers moved to Muir from Avalon. They were torn to pieces, Charles. To pieces. Father, mother, sister, brother, and babe, all torn asunder. Bad omens, Charles.” The Lord Hand was silent, pensive.

“My king,” he began after a pause, “these wrongs will be righted. We need only time.”

“Time,” said Erik bitterly, “is something I fear we have very little of.” Both men remained in silence for a time. “There is one other thing, Charles.”

“Yes, Your Grace?” asked the Lord Hand.

“I know of your past with Lilandra of Chandilar,” Erik answered.

“Yes, my king, it was an indiscretion, no more,” admitted Charles.

“Bah,” Erik waved his hand at his Hand, “I do not look to shame you, Charles. I do, however, need to ask you to use your past to save our future.” It did not take Charles long to understand the implication.

“… You wish me to treat with Lilandra?” asked Charles, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, Charles. After the wedding, go to Lilandra. See if you cannot reignite the flame of your love. It may be the only thing that spares this realm from the harshness of the east.”


	3. Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intrigue at Hellfire Keep.

Emma  
Genosha

“My lords and ladies, tonight we celebrate!” Flagons of spiced wine, sweet hippocras, and peach brandy were brought out at Shaw's behest. There was never a dull moment in the Hellfire Keep. The large castle was a half-diamond, with three towers, one at each point. The Tower Black, the Tower White, and the Tower Red each housed their own “king” and “queen” and “court”. In the center building, the Inner Circle hosted their guests, powerful people with large appetites. Emma knew every one of them and had made it her mission to learn what made them tick. Hellfire Keep served each twisted fantasy, satisfied every perversion, and sated every appetite its guests arrived with. Though Emma disliked these people, she dealt with them pleasantly. She was not one to suffer fools lightly, but she knew they were her ticket to greatness. 

The White Queen of the Hellfire Keep's Inner Circle could boast a noble birth, though she did not care to. The Frosts had been the lords and ladies of Boston, located just next to Westchester, for centuries. Emma had left her oh so noble family years ago. She had been her father's chosen heir, but left him behind along with the rest of her family. There was no turning back now. She had been atainted. Boston could no longer be hers, but it made no matter. She had already achieved a great deal more wealth than her family ever had. She used dyes from the east to change her hair from the mousy brown and auburn of House Frost to a platinum blonde that drew every eye to her. That was her intent, of course. The men and women of Hellfire Keep dressed fancifully, but never covered up in the way nobles were expected to. Emma found that revealing even a single inch more of skin could go a long way towards getting what she wanted. Everything is a weapon, she recalled her father saying. The slightest of smiles, the way you sip your wine, the batting of an eyelid. Everything you do serves your cause. She had not forgotten. 

Nor had she forgotten the names of the nobles attending Shaw's festivities. She glanced around the room recalling names as well as secrets she learned from them. A piece of information is ten times the worth of a piece of gold. Too true, father. Winston Frost had been nothing if not cunning. He knew how to read people. He knew how to work people. Emma had learned well before setting out on her own. Serving boys and girls with only in straps of leather to preserve their modesty were sent out from the kitchens with trays of food. Emma downed her peach brandy before she picked a cube of cheese from a platter. She sniffed it and popped it into her mouth, savoring the smokey aged flavor. As she ate, she espied the Monegasque. Targeted. The tanned man stood proudly with a woman on his arm. That is not your wife, Cartier, she thought to herself. Interesting. Emma sauntered over the pair. 

“Cartier, how lovely to see you again,” Emma said, smiling. She turned to the woman. “And who might this be?”

“Eh, Lady Frost, you look beautiful as always,” the Monegasque responded, his voice flavored with the accent of Monaco, his homeland. “Ah … this is Whitney.”

The raven-haired woman turned to Emma. “Whitney Frost.” Curious.

“You are no kin of mine, I hope,” Emma said. “If you were, I should hope to have recognized you already.”

“No relation,” the woman said. “Simply coincidence.” Coincidence? 

“I'm sure,” Emma responded. Nothing for me while she's here. “Enjoy your evening, Cartier.” Whitney Frost. She had to look into that later. But for now, there was other work to be done. Emma downed her brandy, and picked up another from a servant traveling about the room. Drink in hand, Emma decided to tour the room once more. Captain Braddock, Lady Elizabeth … no Jamie. Odd. Bryan and Elizabeth Braddock were twins, she knew, but Elizabeth had used dyes from the east to transform her blonde locks to a brilliant lavender hue. They both bore upon their persons the emblem of House Braddock, rulers of Avalon. As she neared them, she noticed the lavender-haired Lady Protector of Briton talking to the Lord of the Aerie. That could be something. She stored the information away for future use. Right now, there were other things to discuss. She noticed Shaw slip away, and Selene had disappeared long ago. That was her cue. She excused herself, and turned away with a swish of her cloak. All in white, she was as a most beautiful apparition stalking the halls of some haunted castle. Hellfire Keep was haunted only by the drunken debauchery and scheming that occurred from within.

“My lady, we are ready to begin.” It was Emmanuel Da Costa who greeted her. Her White Rook. Da Costa was a Nova Roman, likely planted in the Inner Circle by Selene. The Black Queen would doubtless try to glean information from Da Costa about the White Queen's plots. Emma would never allow her that satisfaction. It was all too easy for her to win over Da Costa. At first, she thought she'd target her White Rook's son, a boy, Roberto. She realized later on that it was not family that the man cared about, but money. He was too weak to take power, so he latched on to the most powerful person in the room, and he judged power by wealth. That was a mistake, one that Emma had been quick to exploit. 

“Very good,” Emma waved her Rook away, and entered the council chambers of the Inner Circle. There were sixteen seats in the chamber. Only six were filled. Less than half the court was assembled. Shaw was seated in the center, as befitted his rank as Black King and Lord Imperial. Selene sat to his left, one leg resting atop the other. Emma claimed the throne opposite Selene. Da Costa took a seat near her. Seated to her right was Lord Donald Pierce, her White Bishop, a man of great wealth and power. He had resources, yes, but the man lacked the imagination to use them. Give me a single crown, and in a day, I shall have turned that sum into something greater. Give this man a crown, and he would place it on a pedestal and stare at the thing.   
“My lords and ladies, kings and queens, there is much to discuss.” Sebastian Shaw was a tactful man, but he never liked to dance around an issue. “Leland, if you will.” The Lord Imperial of Hellfire Keep's Inner Circle beckoned to a man on his right. His Black Bishop was lord by the name of Harold Leland. He was a very prosperous man, and it showed in his manner of dress and the size of his gut. 

“Yes, my lord,” the man nodded to Shaw. “It has come to our attention that the Lord Hand intends to wed the Lady Grey to one of the Summers boys of House Essex. There is to be a feast to celebrate the betrothal.”

“This is hardly news,” remarked Pierce. “We have been hearing rumors for some time now.”

“I assure you these are no rumors,” Leland continued. “And this bodes ill for us.”

“Nathaniel Essex, Lord of Utopia,” Emma said bitterly. “The man is … sinister.”

“Coming from you, that means quite a bit,” Selene chuckled. “He is an ambitious man. A power monger. He seeks the alliance of House Xavier, but to what end?”

“Westchester is the largest piece of land in the Monarchy,” offered Shaw. “And of the Isles, Utopia is second only to Genosha in wealth. Why not wed the wealth and power of both?”

“We have no foothold in Westchester,” Leland complained. “Less so in Utopia. If they were ever to come into greater power, we would be suffering from without.”

“That can be remedied,” Emma said. “One of the Inner Circle should be sent to Westchester as an envoy. Join them. Study them. Gain their trust. And break them, if need be.”

“I will go,” Da Costa suggested. “The Lord Hand holds my son as a ward. That will be reason enough for my visit.”

“No, no,” objected Selene. “You would break up this marriage between Lady Grey and Lord Summers? How? By beguiling the Lady Grey with your obvious charm?” That comment earned a few laughs. 

“No, no,” objected Shaw. “My Black Queen has the right of it. We should send Emma to Westchester. Let her deal with Summers.”

“I am glad you think me so capable, Shaw,” Emma began, “but I have work to do here. You may recall the little meeting we both attended earlier this day. I must dismantle the Punishers or give them purpose.”

“A task well-suited to you, I do not doubt, but our need for you in Westchester is greater,” Shaw explained. “Selene will deal with the Punishers.” The doors of the chamber opened, and tall woman with hair like fire walked into the room. 

“My lords and ladies, do forgive my tardiness. I was delayed.” The woman sat in a large throne, ruby red in color. 

“Madelyne,” Shaw greeted the woman, “my Red Queen. I am glad you could join us. We were just discussing plans to have Emma ruin Lady Grey's betrothal to Lord Summers.”

“My pathetic oaf of a husband? The man could ruin that betrothal all on his own,” Madelyne said sourly. There was bad blood between Madelyne Pryor and her former husband, Scott Summers. She had given birth to his child, and still he left the woman. The Red Queen of Hellfire Keep was originally from Utopia, an associate of Lord Essex, but after her husband left her, she came to Genosha seeking refuge in the halls of Lord Magnus. What she found instead was the Inner Circle.

“Be that as it may, we need to ensure that it happens before they are wed,” said Shaw. “It is settled. Emma will take care of our business in Westchester. Selene, you will deal with the Punishers.”

“My lord,” Leland said, “we lack for a representative in Utopia. Our gracious Red Queen is of Utopian heritage. Why not send her back as our envoy?”

“Are you as daft as you are fat, Leland?” Madelyne's voice was acid. “I would not even be accepted there. Summers disgraced me. If I return to Utopia, it will be as a conqueror.”

“She speaks truly,” Pierce chimed in. “About the first part, at least.”

“You need not worry, my lords and ladies,” Shaw said. “I am working on that. There is a woman in Essex's court. She is very close to him. She will aid us, given time.”

“What is this woman's name?” asked Da Costa.

“All will be revealed in time, Da Costa,” Shaw said. Emma saw him smiling. That almost terrified her. 

“Will that be all, my lord?” she asked, more curious than concerned. 

“No. Our good king says he will deal with the new situation in the east. He neglects two major territories,” Shaw said. 

“Egptia,” offered Pierce. “And ...”

“Limbo,” finished Madelyne. “Belasco has been training the young Rasputin girl.”

“With Xavier's knowledge?” asked Shaw. 

“Of course not,” replied the Red Queen. “I know these things. Leave this matter to me, my lord. I will treat with Belasco, and help train the girl, but she will be our weapon to wield when the time comes to remove the Lord of Limbo.”

 

Everyone must be placed where we need them to be.


End file.
